


The Wolves of Winter

by AvengingSherlocksAssbutt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: A.I.M, Bucky speaking Russian, Cryogenics, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Nightmares, OC speaking Russian, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Russian, description of some torture, some graphic scenes, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:16:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengingSherlocksAssbutt/pseuds/AvengingSherlocksAssbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We Russians, we have nothing but our winter."</p><p> </p><p>The year is 1988, and communism is starting to crumble around Eastern Europe. An A.I.M asset, simply known to intelligence agencies as 'The Renegade' is travelling Eastern Europe to asses the strength of communism. Her ulterior mission is to hunt down and kill The Winter Soldier. </p><p>Unfortunately for her, he is well aware of her presence, and begins tracking her instead, with an ulterior motive of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One - ренегат (Renegade)

**Author's Note:**

> All Russian will have a translation following it, so you don't need google translate up.

I crept through the abandoned KGB centre, occasionally stopping in empty offices to rifle through files. My breath clouded in front of my face, coming out in gentle puffs. I dropped lazily into the leather chair behind the desk of the office I was ransacking, the cracked leather splitting even more beneath my weight. The desk was a mess of newspapers and Manila files, and as I looked through them I started to see little bits of information I needed.   
  
That was when I saw his name.   
  
 _Зимний Солдат._ The Winter Soldier.   
  
I snatched up the file, setting my flashlight on the desk and angling it so I could read. I was disappointed at what I found. Apparently he'd been a Soviet Agent about ten years before, but he'd disappeared after a few months of work. The file didn't state his whereabouts, and he was listed as Missing in Action. Apparently he just didn't come back to the base after a mission. It wasn't anything I didn't already know.   
  
I dropped the file. Although I wasn't looking for information on The Winter Soldier specifically, I was under orders to keep an eye out for him at all times. A.I.M had told me on more than one occasion that he was the most lethal asset of any secrecy agency that I would ever face, and my job was to take him down if and when I found him.   
  
The Soldier was the reason A.I.M had created me in the first place. I was their equivalent of him, created with the sole purpose of hunting him down and taking him out. Of course, A.I.M would have been stupid not to use my adverse skill set on other targets while I looked for the Soldier. I was currently looking for the whereabouts of Alexander Pajari, one of the more important members of the KBG. The centre I was raiding had been his main centre for operations, but it seemed that he was long gone.   
  
I sighed, dropping the faded manila folder back onto the desk and reaching for my flashlight. I stood up, making my way to the door of the office, when I heard something. It sounded like a boot on metal.   
  
I slipped my pistol out of my holster and peeked around the door, looking up and down the corridor expectantly.   
  
Nothing. It was empty.   
  
With a sigh, I holstered my weapon and crept outside into the corridor, making my way up to the next level of the centre. I was starting to doubt I would find any information on Pajari's whereabouts, (or The Winter Soldier's position), but I carried on regardless. I was about ten feet away from the next office when I heard the sound again. The distant sound of a boot on metal.   
  
I span around, unholstering my weapon and narrowing my eyes. I'd heard the sound twice now, and unless my mind was playing tricks on me, (which I assumed it wasn't) I wasn't alone in the centre.   
  
" _ренегат_."  
  
I span around, my weapon still aloft, to see him. At first glance, he could have been any operative, from any organisation. But then my flashlight caught his metal arm, and the light reflected off, blinding me momentarily.   
  
"I take it you know who I am?" I called. He'd called me by the nickname I'd acquired during my time as an asset.   
  
"Renegade." He repeated my name in English, and a shiver ran down my spine. I tried to conceal it; the last thing I needed was him knowing that he intimidated me. It was the only invitation he'd need to attack me, and judging by the size of his shoulders, he would be able to overpower me without a problem. "You know me?"  
  
" _солдат_." I tightened the grip on my gun. "Soldier."  
  
He took a step forwards, calmly starting to close the gap between us. As he got closer I could feel my pulse begin to speed up, but I realised I couldn't move. He was ten feet away, then five, then four, then three, then -  
  
"Are you going to shoot me,  _ренегат_?" He asked, undertones of humour marking his words. I ground  my teeth and wet my lower lip, raising the gun a little higher so it was aimed at his chest. He looked down at the muzzle, and then took another step forward, so that the metal pressed into the fabric of his combat suit. Finally, he raised his eyes to look at me. "Well?"  
  
"Are you going to shoot  _me_?" I shot back, trying to keep my voice from shaking. In my time at A.I.M I'd had plenty of time to read up on the Winter Soldier. I'd studied his missions, read the reports that had been stolen from Hydra bases, all the time trying to assess how best to take him down. Now he was stood in front of me, and all I could think of was how easily his left hand could crush me.   
  
Without warning he grabbed my outstretched arm, wrenching it around to pin it behind my back. The gun slipped from between my fingers and clattered to the ground behind me while he tugged me backwards so I was against his chest. He lowered his head so that his lips could brush against my ear.   
  
"После того как все рассказы," he whispered harshly, his grip on my wrist becoming painful, "легенда гораздо больше, чем женщины. Я разочарован."  
  
He let go of my wrist and I dropped to the floor with a yelp, falling to my hands and knees. He stepped past me, sneering when he saw me massaging my wrist, before disappearing down the flight of stairs I'd come up.   
  
I sat back against the wall, scowling while his words played over in my head.   
  
 _After all the stories, the legend is so much more than the woman. I'm disappointed._  
  
Disappointed. He'd expected a fight.   
  
And he'd let me live so he could get one next time. 


	2. Two - ребенок (Child)

As the door to the KGB centre slammed shut behind me, I looked around fr any trace of the Winter Soldier, but it was clear he'd left long before I'd even got up from where he'd dropped me. Still scowling, I made my way over to the black A.I.M vehicle I'd parked behind the building. Beside it was a single lined track, obviously from a motorcycle.   
  
I swallowed hard and checked my watch. I was expected to check in with my superiors in two hours, at a centre that was an hour drive from here. If I wasn't back in time I knew there was going to be a punishment; it had happened before. Gritting my teeth, I clambered into the car and turned the key in the ignition, following the Winter Soldier's tracks away from the compound.   
  
The centre had been located in a mountainside in Eastern Russia, meaning the trail to and from it was windy, steep and dangerous. I followed the track as fast as I could while trying to keep control of the car, praying that there weren't hidden patches of ice on the road. The last thing I needed was to have to bail out of the car and walk back to the base.   
  
Finally, the track evened out, and it became easier to go faster without worrying about crashing. The trail the Soldier had left in his wake was becoming more and more faint as snow began to fall around me and the sky began to darken. I gritted my teeth and pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor, thankful for the extra grip A.I.M had supplied to my car as I went over heavily snowed out patches of road, following the quickly fading tire marks of the Soldier's bike.   
  
Eventually, with the light fading and the snow falling, I realised I wasn't going to find him. Thankfully, his trail hadn't led me too far away from my meet up point, so I pulled to a stop in the middle of a deserted road by a patch of trees and set off to the North, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel.   
  
I'd been driving off his trail for about half an hour when I caught a flash of black in my rear-view mirror. I gripped the steering wheel tightly with my left hand and twisted around in my seat. Sure enough, he was tailing me, and judging by the speed he was moving, he was more than likely gaining on me.   
  
I turned back around and switched gears, slamming my foot on the gas and shooting forwards, checking my rearview mirror again. He was coming up very close to my bumper, but surprisingly, he wasn't shooting. I raised an eyebrow and continued on, the dark scenery of the trees whirring past in one confused blur as the Soldier came closer. Without warning, I slammed my foot onto the break and made a hard left, spinning my car around 180 degrees and snatching the .50 Desert Eagle from the glove compartment and getting out, crouching around the side of the car to look for him. It had taken him a good forty feet to stop, but he was getting off the bike and heading my way, wasting no time in arming himself.  
  
My breath quickened as I checked my ammo. I had a full magazine in the gun, and a spare tucked into my belt, along with my pistol. I had plenty of ammo to try and take him out.   
  
He moved closer, his pace slowing to a walk filled with confidence. He almost seemed to  _strut_  towards my car, his movements fluid and easy as he checked the ammo of his sidearm, which he pointed casually in my direction. I ducked around the side of the car and moved to the other end, but it was obvious he'd seen my feet move underneath the car, because he was pointing it at me again by the time I poked my head round.   
  
"Come on out,  _ренегат_." He called, his voice mocking me as the snow swirled around him.   
  
I took the safety off and pointed it at him, firing a bullet which he dodged with ease. I heard him chuckle. "You'll have to do better than that, Renegade."  
  
I emptied my magazine, desperately trying to get a hit. It was infuriating how easily he could move, dodging each of the bullets I fired like they were creeping towards him. He fired one bullet in my direction, but it hit the side of the car with a 'ping' and bounced off, landing in the snow. I reloaded, clicking my new magazine into place.   
  
" _смотреть вверх_." He hissed, his voice oddly close. Unwittingly, I followed his instructions and flicked my head up, to see him stood inches away from me. I couldn't shoot fast enough; his metal hand was already clamped around my wrist and he was pulling me to my feet.   
  
"Trust A.I.M to send a  _ребенок_." He mocked, sneering as he pushed me roughly against the hood of the car. I exhaled sharply, my breath clouding in front of his face.   
  
"I am  _not_ a child." I snarled back, struggling against his vice-like grip. He let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, pinning me against the hood with his hips and tugging the glove off his left metal hand, before lifting the edge of the shirt of my combat suit and pressing it against my skin. I couldn't help the involuntary cry that escaped my lips, and his mouth curled into another proud smirk.   
  
"So weak." He declared, moving so his head was inches from mine. "Why would they send you after me?"  
  
I didn't bother answering him. I was too caught up in how  _warm_  he was. I hadn't even realised how cold it was outside until I'd felt the warmth of his body against mine. Now, I could feel the heat radiating off him and against me in a stark contrast to the snow that swirled around us both. His cold blue eyes flickered across my face, and traces of mockery or humour gone as he studied me. He repeated his question.   
  
"I don't know." I snapped. It obviously wasn't the answer he'd wanted, as the metal hand went around my throat, chilling my skin in a way I'd only ever felt after missions had gone wrong and I was being punished. Was this some form of punishment? Was tracking him some form of punishment, to prove how weak I really was?  
  
He pulled his hand away from my skin, pushing his face a little closer to mine instead. His eyes flickered across my face once more, until he met my gaze and smirked again. "Не стоит даже пуля."  
  
He pulled away from me, walking back across the snow-laden path to his bike. I watched his dark figure retreat, confused as to why he'd let me live again, when he'd obviously taken so much  effort to follow me out here. What was he doing? How did he know A.I.M had sent me?  
  
He took off, the engine roaring to life. I watched him go, and then listened until I couldn't hear the engine any more, before climbing into my car and pulling the neck of my combat suit higher, shivering at his words.   
  
Not even worth the bullet. 


	3. Three - не удалось (Failed)

"Mission report."  
  
I looked up to my superior, frowning.   
  
"Mission report." He demanded again coldly. I swallowed hard.   
  
"Compound abandoned. Files incomplete. Whereabouts of Alexander Pajari unknown." I relayed, my voice just as monotonous and robotic as it always was when I gave reports.   
  
Silence fell around the room. I was sat on a chair in an underground bunker, surrounded by armed guards, just like I always was. I had been stripped to my underwear - I was never allowed to wear any clothing where weapons could be concealed when I spoked with my superiors - and Carver, my superior, was stood with a tazer in one hand.   
  
"So you failed." Carver said, his voice dangerously soft. I tried to hold his gaze, but it was impossible to do without seeming like I was trying to size him up, so I lowered my gaze to the floor, concentrating on the worn tiles at his feet. Another silence fell over the room.   
  
"Answer me." He barked. I flinched.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Yes, sir." I said, my voice barely audible. He tutted, and I flicked my eyes up to look at him, just in time to see him start the tazer. I swallowed hard; I knew exactly what was coming.   
  
"Pin her down." He ordered, and two of the guards stepped forwards to push me back against the backrest of my chair. I barely even had time to brace myself before the electric shocks ran through my body. I whimpered as the tingling turned into a burning pain, as the tazer was held against the skin of my thigh.   
  
Carver pulled the tazer away, and I relaxed, breathing heavily and looking up at him through my eyelashes. He hefted the tazer in his hands, contemplating his next move before tossing it to the guard next to him. "Ten minutes of that then lock her up. Perhaps next time our little ренегат won't fail."  
  
He smirked as he left, deliberately using my field nickname. The heavy steel door to the bunker closed behind him, and the guard advanced, holding the tazer aloft. I gritted my teeth and screwed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the feeling of it against my skin. What I wasn't prepared for, however, was the tazer against the side of my neck.   
  
I screamed openly as the electric shocks reverberated through my body, my muscles tensing and jerking involuntarily. When the guards let go of me, I fell out of my chair and onto the cold tiles, groaning as the shock of the temperature hit my bare skin. I couldn't control my muscles enough to get them to sit up, and just as I managed to kick my legs out to try and support myself, the tazer was back against my skin, and I was screaming and convulsing on the floor.   
  
  
  
  
It was a week before they let me out of my room again. I'd been kept in a small cell, fed three times a day with plain foods that I could barely even taste, and only given a punching bag and a set of weights to entertain myself. I'd used them for as long as possible each day, pummelling the punching bag to try and alleviate the pain in my muscles, which even a week later bore the aches of my ten minutes of torture. Each time my fist had connected with the material of the bag, I'd pictured the Winter Soldier's face. I'd pictured his smirk, I'd heard his condensing words, I'd felt the warmth of his body radiate over mine. By the end of the week my muscles were aching, but I was feeling somewhat stronger. I was certainly feeling more angry.   
  
I was sat in Carver's office, dressed only in my underwear, as was normal in meetings with him. My hands were chained in front of me and my feet were chained to the seat. Four armed guards flanked me.   
  
"Ah, our Renegade returns to the field." I heard Carver's voice from behind me, and tensed, knowing that I shouldn't turn to look at him. He walked around to  sit behind his desk, before shooting me a thin lipped smile. "Your next mission. We're sending you to a base in Georgia. We think Pajari might have fled there."  
  
He dumped the file in front of me and waited for me to take it. When I did, he instructed me to return to my room and wait to be issued with my weapons and combat suit, before I was to be flown out to the Georgia base they thought Pajari's whereabouts might be found.   
  
My ankles were uncuffed, and I was frog marched from the room and back to my cell, where my wrists were uncuffed and I was pushed inside, before being told that my things would be brought to me within the hour.   
  
I dropped onto my uncomfortable A.I.M-issue cot, feeling the springs dig into my rear painfully. I stared down at the file for a few seconds, before discarding it.   
  
I wondered if the Winter Soldier was going to be in Georgia when I got there.   
  



	4. Four - Обучены убивать (Trained to Kill)

It didn't take me long to find him. I knew he'd be there.   
  
He was waiting for me in one of the abandoned offices on the second floor. As soon as I nudged the door open and peeked inside I knew he was in there; the beam of my flashlight caught his arm.   
  
"I was wondering when you'd turn up." He said, his tone almost conversational. I raised my flashlight to point it into his eyes. He turned his face away and stood up, his long legs carrying him around the desk towards me.   
  
I backed out into the corridor, tucking the flashlight away and reaching for my knife. As soon as he was out in the corridor I lunged forwards, slashing at the air in front of him. He barely managed to dodge my attack and put up his hands into defence to avoid me cutting across his eye and nose. I span around to face him again, snarling and dodging the movement of his lethal left hand.   
  
He was fast and strong, but I was smaller, which gave me the advantage when I had to defend and dodge. There was a lot less of me that I had to move around, so I could get around his attacks with a lot more ease than I'd previously thought.   
  
He moved with brutal force, each one of his attacks perfectly times to meet with mine. Every time I threw a punch he would block it and swing my hand away, trying to swing my arms out far enough that he could land a punch. Every time though, I managed to move out of the way, before batting his arm away.   
  
I used his lack of defence to land a kick square in his chest, sending him flying backwards across the hallway. He landed on the floor, his eyes open in surprise for a few seconds. I wasted no time in moving to him to take him out, but he was already on his feet. He looked impressed as he regarded me.   
  
"Кажется, кто-то тренировался." He called with a smirk. He'd seen I'd been training.   
  
"Yeah, training to kick your ass." I snarled, managing to land another kick, simultaneously grabbing my knife and spinning around to try and wedge it into his chest. He deflected the blow and instead grabbed one of my thighs, and with surprising ease threw me over his shoulder. I hit the ground with a thud.   
  
I rolled over onto my back, trying to get my footing so I could attack him again, but he was already on top of me, caging me beneath his arms. He smirked down at me. "Но еще слишком слаб."  
  
"Jokes on you." I snarled back. "They don't speak Russian in Georgia, asshole."  
  
He smirked. "ისინი არ ლაპარაკობს ინგლისურად ან."  
  
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I snarled. I couldn't speak Georgian, but I assumed it was some smartass comment.   
  
His cold blue eyes flickered across my face while the smirk lingered. For a few minutes, we just stared at each other. Then, he grabbed me around the waist and hauled me up into a sitting position, keeping his metal hand clamped around my wrist in case I tried to move. He tugged me a little closer so he could study my face.   
  
"I've heard about you." He said finally, his voice soft. "The Renegade from A.I.M. The nameless girl. The ghost."  
  
"Same could be said for you, Soldier." I said quietly. I expected him to smirk at that, but instead his eyes flashed. He et go of my wrist and stood up.   
  
"What are you doing here?" I called after him, curiosity getting the better of me. "Why are you following me?"  
  
He paused and glanced back to me before responding in Russian. "Вы были отправлены, чтобы убить меня. Я был послан, чтобы убить тебя _." You were sent to kill me. I was sent to kill you._  
  
I frowned, watching him walk away from me, briefly wondering why he spoke in Russian more than English. From what I'd heard he'd originally been American, and Hydra was an organisation that originated in Germany. Surely it would have made more sense for him to speak one of those languages?  
  
Either way, that wasn't the most pressing issue. The current problem was that he'd let me live  _again_ , with no explanation. In all of the files I'd read on the Winter Soldier he never let anyone live - his targets were always killed. So why was he letting me live, when I was clearly his next target?  
  
I asked him this, and he stopped again, looking over his shoulder for a few seconds. I saw something flicker across his face that I couldn't quite read - perhaps it was pity? And then he was gone.   
  
I dropped my head to rest it on the floor, deeply confused. He had been sent by Hydra to kill me - they had presumably heard that I had been produced by A.I.M to try and take down The Winter Soldier. So he was tracking me, following me from the KGB base in Russia to the base here in Georgia.   
  
But he still hadn't killed me. He'd come close to it three times now, but each time he'd backed off, walking away before he could end me. And what had been with that look, just before he'd left? It had seemed close to pity or compassion - both of which I knew were impossible. He was an asset, like me. A robotic, ruthless killer.   
  
I swallowed hard and clambered to my feet, continuing with the job at hand - I still had to find Alexander Pajari. 


	5. Five - наблюдение (Surveillance)

It was three weeks later when I next found him. I was working a job in the Czech Republic (It turned out Pajari had been murdered by other members of the KGB in his hotel room about a week after I'd started my search for him,) and I was concentrating on the Winter Soldier. Carver had been pleased - I'd told him I thought the Soldier was out and working in Eastern Europe, and he'd given me free reign to look for him.  
  
It turned out that the most simple of things - a money trail in Prague - led me to him. He'd bought some weapons from a shady dealer, and after a short questioning he'd told me where I could find someone who could lead me to the Soldier. I'd contemplated letting the dealer live - he's begged for his life for a full five minutes while I cleaned blood off my hands to get rid of any evidence of my interrogation - but decided against it, putting a bullet into his head and leaving his shop quickly.   
  
It had taken me less than a week to track him down. He was staying in a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city under a false name, Alexi Abramovich. I checked into the room next to his, and after checking that he wasn't in the room one morning, I bugged it out.   
  
For two days I watched him through hidden cameras and microphones, listening to phone conversations and watching him read files. I still wasn't sure what he was looking for in Prague, but he seemed kitted out for a mission.   
  
It was the night of the second day I'd been watching him. I was sat in my room, watching the grainy footage of the Soldier pacing his room, flipping a knife in one hand. I'd noticed he tended to do that, muttering to himself in fragmented German, Russian and several other languages I couldn't place due to poor sound quality. He paced up and down the room, muttering German phrases that were too quiet for me to distinguish while he flipped the knife in his right hand with impressive skill. Finally, he swung around, and came back down the room in the direction of the camera. I frowned. That was odd. The camera we was heading to was placed in an air vent at the side of the room - it was the air vent that connected to my room. It wasn't his normal path for pacing.   
  
He walked straight up to the camera, and then, instead of turning and continuing back across the room, he raised his eyes and looked directly into the camera. The breath caught in my throat as his lips turned up into a smirk and he opened his mouth.   
  
"Опен дверь, Ренегаде." He called. I could hear his voice through the headset, and faintly through the air vent. I watched as he walked to the door of his motel room, and wasted no time in snatching up my gun and knife. He'd told me to open my door.   
  
As I stood up, I heard a knock at the door, and gritted my teeth. He asked (in Russian) to come in. Slowly, I made my way over to the door and opened it a crack, looking outside. The Soldier smirked and pushed the door open with ease, stepping inside the room and batting the gun out of my hand gracefully. I took a step backwards, inadvertently allowing him even further into the room.   
  
He glanced around at my surveillance equipment and looked down at me. "I'm impressed. It took you less time than I expected to find me here. You're here to kill me?"  
  
The seconds ticked by as we stood in silence. He took a step towards me, into my personal space - we were so close we were practically touching - and smirked again. "You can try, if you'd like."  
  
Without warning, my right hand shot out to grab a fistful of his long hair and yank it to the side. He snarled and cried out in pain as I pulled, slamming my free hand into his ribs to make him double over. I let go over his hair, knowing that I had to move quickly - I wouldn't have the element of surprise for long.   
  
I sent one booted foot into his stomach, and he stumbled backwards, falling onto my untouched bed and bouncing there for a couple of seconds. I leapt over and straddled his hips, reaching for my knife with my left hand while I wrapped the fingers of my right around his throat, squeezing. He scrabbled at me for a couple of seconds while I struggled with my knife, eventually mimicking my earlier movement and grabbing my hair, using it to yank my head backwards, exposing my throat.   
  
He managed to move his body so that I was underneath him, caging me beneath his arms again. Of course, this time he didn't have the benefit of a hard surface to pin me against - the springy bed was far easier to move on. I tucked my legs up and kicked out, catching his stomach and sending him flying backwards across the room, where he crashed into my surveillance equipment. He picked himself up slowly, swinging his left arm out to grab my throat. The cold fingers closed around my windpipe, and I cried out as he started to squeeze, backing me up and slamming me against the wall. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable.   
  
But it didn't come.   
  
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling the pressure around my throat subside. Slowly, his hand dropped to my waist, his fingers tracing the waistband of my jeans. His eyes were focused everywhere by mine; they flickered across my lips, my jaw, my chest, all the way down to the curve of my hips, before finally, with an agonizingly slow pace, meeting my gaze.   
  
I couldn't work out who started stripping whom, but the next thing I knew my shirt had been thrown halfway across the room, and he was kicking off his trousers and my back was against the wall again and his lips were on mine. Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew it was wrong, and I knew I should have been putting a gun to his head instead of digging my fingernails into his back and dropping my head to rest in the crook of his neck,but it was just so hard to  _care_  when he was pressing his lips against  mine in a hot, feverish kiss, and wrapping my legs around his waist and pushing my back further against the wall with each thrust of his hips.   
  
  
  
We didn't talk as we collected our clothes. We didn't even make eye contact as we changed, but as I turned my back to him to pull my shirt over my head, I could feel his piercing gaze on me. Finally, when we were both fully clothed, I turned to look at him. His hair was messed up and sticking out at odd angles from where I'd dragged my fingers through it, and there were faint bruises at the base of his neck from where I'd taken to sucking on the skin. I knew that they were nothing compared to the marks he must have left all over me - I could already feel the bruises forming on my hip from where he'd used his left hand to pin me to the wall.   
  
He licked his lower lip, pulling on his jacket before finally speaking. "До следующего раза."  
  
I watched him leave before dropping down onto my bed and surveying the mess we'd created around the room. There was now no chance of my surveillance equipment working ever again, and we'd managed to knock over a lamp. I touched two fingers to the side of my throat, where a bruise had been left by his lips, repeating his words in English.   
  
"Until next time."


	6. Six - Польша (Poland)

It was three weeks before it happened again. This time it was in an abandoned Hydra facility that he was supposed to be scoping out, in case Hydra wanted to return and use it. I was there looking for any Hydra files that could be useful to A.I.M.   
  
We met in one of the old science labs, and I barely had time to speak before I was on the floor and he was reaching for his belt. It was done and over in ten minutes, and we were both on our feet, straightening our clothes and turning our backs. He never asked what I was looking for, and I never told him, and as I watched him leave the lab, I almost wished he'd stayed a little longer.   
  
It kept happening, over and over again across the communist countries that Hydra and A.I.M both had influence in. Romania, Bulgaria, Kazakhstan, Poland, East Germany and Russia were all places we'd managed to find each other. It was always the same - short, desperate and intense. Most times we'd remain as clothed as possible, just in case we weren't alone in any of the centres, but sometimes (especially if we found some crappy motel room to use) we'd end up as a hot, naked mess on the floor, our limbs tangled together as we tried to catch our breath.  
  
  
  
It was one particularly stormy night in Poland after what was probably the longest time I'd spent with him. He was leaning heavily on his arms, his hot breath coming out across my neck in sporadic bursts while he panted, occasionally kissing my skin. I lay underneath him, pressing my forehead into his shoulder and tracing my fingers gently over the marks my nails had left in his back, softly scratching at them while we came down from our shared high.   
  
Eventually, he raised his head to look me in the eye, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Это было удивительно."  
  
I closed my eyes, unable to process the Russian and convert it to English in my head. I dropped my head back onto the worn carpet, listening to his low voice as he murmured Russian in my ear, placing harsh kisses along my collarbone.   
  
"Ты выглядишь красивый." He mumbled between kisses, occasionally nipping at the skin. "Я хотел бы остаться здесь навсегда."  
  
My mind was still too foggy to understand, and I asked him to translate. He ignored me, instead grinding his hips against mine with deliberate slowness before grabbing my left leg and hooking it over his waist, supporting my weight with his left arm and pulling me up so he was sitting and I was straddling him. "Очередной раунд?"  
  
That one I understood. I nodded - of course I wanted to go another round with him. He shot me a wolfish grin, kissing me and fisting my hair in his right hand, tipping my head back and arching my neck.   
  
He started to place sloppy kisses along my skin, his chest still heaving. I'd recently discovered that his refractory period was practically non-existent, a point which was becoming clear to me again while he dipped his head to trace his tongue against my collarbone. My hands moved from his back to rest in his hair, and I arched my neck involuntary when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot just below my jaw.   
  
Despite having said few words to each other over the past few months, we knew a lot about each other - or, more bluntly, we knew a lot about each other's bodies. For example, I knew that if I ran my fingernails along his abdomen, scratching gently across the peaks and dips, that his lips would quirk into the smallest of smiles - real smiles, not the smirks I'd received before. I also knew that the cleft in his chin was a particularly good spot to kiss, even if his stubble scratched my lips and face.   
  
The second round was undeniably just as good as the first.   
  
  
  
  
I woke up in the scummy motel room the next morning with more aches than normal. I rolled over to check that the space next to me was empty, and sure enough, I was alone.   
  
I settled back against the bed, closing my eyes and thinking back over the night before. I'd spotted him in Warsaw, the capital of Poland, when I'd arrived. To any other person in the city he probably looked just like any other person, but to me it was like he was holding a jazzy disco sign saying 'will fuck A.I.M assets for fun'.  
  
As I passed him in the street I slipped a scrap of paper with the name of my motel and my room number into his pocket. It had taken all of three hours for him to find the note and come to me. And then, like usual, we'd ended up on the floor, with me tugging off his shirt and him sliding my pants down.   
  
I was officially in Poland to look for the collapse of KGB movement in the country - the communist rule that was spearheaded in Russia was crumbling, and many countries were starting to protest. I'd been reliably informed that the KBG would be obsolete by 1990, and then A.I.M's only two threats would be Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D.   
  
However official my reason for being in Poland was, my unofficial one was (of course) to find and subsequently fuck The Winter Soldier (a task I'd now completed at least four times over, if I remembered correctly.) Now he was gone, and I could concentrate on the mission at hand. It was good to get everything out of my system when I saw him, but that was all our meetings were. Relieving tension so we could concentrate on the task at hand.   
  
It had gotten to the point where I'd stopped even seeing him as the enemy. He'd stopped being a Hydra asset (although every time I thought of him I decided what was more accurate was the term 'Hydra  _ass_ et') and started being something completely different. I wasn't even sure what he was to me now - but I certainly didn't have the intention of killing him anymore.   
  
After a few more blissful minutes of going over the previous night's activities in my head, I decided to get up and start my surveillance of Warsaw, the memory of the Soldier's hands on my hips still fresh in my mind. 


	7. Seven - До следующего раза (Until Next Time)

I was at an old KBG station just outside of Warsaw a week later, sifting through old paperwork in one of the offices, and I barely even heard him creep up behind me. I did, however, hear his footsteps when he got a couple of steps away from me, and I tensed up, but when I saw the glint of his metal arm out of the corner of my eye, I relaxed.   
  
"I'm working." I told him sharply. That didn't stop him from grabbing me by the hips as roughly as possible and pushing me back against the desk with the same grin he'd worn in my motel room.   
  
"You smell good."  
  
"Get off." I held up the paperwork dated February 11th 1987 to look at it more closely. I didn't get far through the text when it was ripped out of my hands and tossed on the floor. "I'm busy."  
  
"Ten minutes and I'll be gone. Hell, if you get me worked up enough it might even be five."  
  
It was so tempting to just grab the front of his combat suit and wrap my legs around his hips and let him fuck me on the desk like we both knew I  _really_ wanted, but I had a job to focus on. I bit my lip and reached for the next file, but he batted my hand away. "I followed you here."  
  
"And you think that earns you something?" I said wearily, raising my eyebrow. "Just come back to the motel in a couple of hours."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"And why's that?"   
  
"I'm leaving Poland in an hour. Wanted to say goodbye."  
  
I was surprised. "You've never done that before."  
  
"Four months ago I'd never fucked you before. Two weeks ago I'd never stayed more than fifteen minutes. There's a first for everything. Now, are we going to have sex or not?"  
  
"Why so eager? I'm in Russia when I'm done here, we can probably hook up there."  
  
"I've been called back to Hydra's base. I don't know how long it'll be before I'm out again." He admitted, for a brief moment looking... Disappointed?  
  
I glanced back to the desk, which was crammed with paperwork that I was yet to read. "Not on the desk."  
  
He nodded, reaching for the bottom of my shirt to lift it up. This surprised me too - usually he'd just slide my pants down far enough and pull down his zipper and we'd be off. This time, though, it was like he was savouring every moment. He moved with agonizing slowness, his fingers trailing down my sides to reach for my pants, and when he finally got me out of them, he began undressing. I felt almost obligated to help, so we were stood together, slowly stripping off his black combat suit.   
  
He kissed me softly, far softer than anything I'd ever experienced, before dragging me down to the floor with him and pinning me beneath him, before dropping another slow kiss to my lips.   
  
Everything about this time was different - no less exiting - but different. Instead of being quick and brutal and over in five minutes it was slower and almost more gentle. His head was buried in the crook of my neck and the fingers of his right hand were tangled into my hair while he murmured in my ear, sometimes in English, sometimes in Russian, and occasionally in fragmented German. My legs were hooked over his hips and my forehead was pressed into his shoulder while I tried to even remember how to speak English.   
  
Then it was over, and the two of us lay there together, both trying to catch our breath, both whispering muffled words in both English and Russian while we buried our faces in each other's skin. I could feel his lips burning against my collarbone, but I knew mine must have been just as hot against his neck so I couldn't complain. Not that I would have anyway - it had all felt so good. So much better than all the times before.  
  
I could tell he thought so too, because when he pulled back from me, when he'd finally come down enough to talk and be coherent, he managed a smile and another kiss. "You taste good too."  
  
"I bet I smell like sex now."  
  
He didn't respond, instead standing and grabbing his clothes. I did the same, reaching for the pieces of my own combat suit that he'd tossed to corners of the room. When we were dressed, he looked at me, almost sadly.   
  
"До следующего раза." He said, tugging on his jacket and leaving. A small smile crept across my lips - it was exactly what he'd said after the first time.   
  
"Until next time." I murmured to his retreating back.


	8. Eight - Назначена убить (Assigned to Kill)

"Mission report."  
  
"USSR influence in Poland disintegrating. All known KGB centres abandoned. Estimated time until full KGB collapse is two years." I relayed, keeping my eyes trained into middle distance and not meeting Carver's gaze. He made a pleased sound, and I saw him slip the tazer into the pocket of his suit.   
  
"Excellent. You will remain here for the next month, and then you are going to be stationed in Moscow for the next year, where you will monitor the movements of the KGB, and wipe out the targets you are assigned. Clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir." I said in the same monotonous, half dead voice that I always used in meetings with him.   
  
"Good. Take her to her room." Two guards pulled me to my feet, and I felt a cold finger under my chin, tilting it up so I could look Carver in the eye. He smirked, slowly dragging his eyes up and down my body in a way that The Winter Soldier had done only a week before. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and finally, I was led out of the room to my cell.   
  
  
  
Half a year later, I was exiting one of the houses of a (now) Ex-KGB member, Abram Denikin, pulling the hood of my coat up a little further to protect myself against the biting cold of the Moscow air. The strike team I'd hand picked from the best A.I.M Agents were positioned around the house and across the street to make sure I wasn't interrupted during my interrogation. Now as I stepped out onto the streets, glancing down at the blood that coated my hands, they were moving back to the three black cars we'd parked along the road.   
  
"Он умер?" Volkov, who I'd put in charge of the strike team's movements, moved to walk next to me as I crossed the street. He'd asked whether Denikin was dead.   
  
"да." I responded with a nod, opening the driver's door of the nearest car and clambering in. Volkov followed me, climbing into the seat next to me and strapping in as I drove off, occasionally glancing down at the blood which was drying on his hands.   
  
Volkov settled back in his seat, occasionally glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. He was a native Russian, and although I had my doubts about his loyalties to A.I.M, he was imperative to work in Russia. He was also one of the best fighters I'd seen who wasn't officially listed as an asset or an assassin. "How many more names are on the list?" He asked, knowing I preferred to speak in English after a mission was over.   
  
"Four." I responded, checking that our car was still being followed by the rest of the strike team in the rear-view mirror. "Yenin, Kolkov, Solomin and Apalkov. After that we go back to A.I.M and ask for the next list."  
  
"There's a next list?"  
  
I glanced at him from across the car. "Of course there is."  
  
"So we're here to single handedly take down the KGB?"  
  
"Pretty much." I said with a shrug.   
  
  
  
  
Our job in Russia only lasted four months after that. With the help of the strike team I'd assembled, I managed to get through three lists of fourteen names before we returned to the A.I.M base for good. Carver was impressed with the strike team I'd assembled, and kept them banded together, sending them back out to Russia to continue the work I'd started, with Volkov leading them.    
  
Promotions didn't happen in A.I.M. Unless you had a desk job, you were just an Agent, or an Asset. However, some were more favourable than others. After my success in Russia, I gained considerable favour with my superiors, and was treated with far less suspicion by Carver when we met. Although my hands and feet were still chained to my seats, and I was flanked by guards, I was allowed to remain in my combat suit, after being checked for weapons at the door, which, after years of giving mission reports and being debriefed in my underwear, came as a relief.   
  
I was called into a meeting with Carver about two months after my return from Russia. After being checked for weapons and chained down by my guards, Carver entered. He sat down in front of me with the same thin smile he always shared. "You have a new assignment."  
  
I nodded, as an invitation for him to carry on, and he opened up a file, placing it on the desk in front of me. "We want you back in Russia. Your work has greatly aided in the rupture of the KGB. Now we need you to do the same with Hydra."  
  
"You know that when Hydra discover I'm after them again they'll send assets and strike teams after me?"   
  
"I'm aware of that. The Winter Soldier, we have been reliably informed, is in Cryo-status, so he shouldn't be a problem for a long time, unless you get careless and reveal yourself."  
  
I nodded. "Of course, sir."  
  
"We need you to take out every name on this list." He pushed the manila file further towards me. "And when you're done, if you haven't already, your mission is to kill the Winter Soldier."

 


	9. Nine - Взлом и проникновение (Breaking and Entering)

I was sat in my hotel room, watching the footage from the cameras I'd hooked up for the room across the hall. My next target, Alexander Pierce, was talking on the phone in German. I drummed my fingers against the desk in front of me, trying to decipher what he was saying. His voice was too low and the sound quality was too bad, but I could make out a few phrases. Bring in. Ice. Wipe. Covert. (Or was it convert?) Asset. Agent. 

I couldn't make a lot of sense out of it, but it was obvious Hydra was planning something. I watched as Pierce hung up from the phone call and left the room. I waited for a couple of seconds before going to the window to wait for him to leave the hotel. When I saw him hail a cab, I decided it was safe to check his room. 

I picked the lock with ease and crept inside, before checking the files he'd left on the desk. I was disappointed - it didn't list anything that I could use. As I sifted through the files, however, I came across something I recognised.

ренегат. Renegade.

And the file below that: Зимний Солдат. The Winter Soldier. 

I opened my file, my blood chilling. Hydra already knew I was after them, and I'd only wipe ten names off a list of thirty. I had twenty more to get through, and it was going to be even harder now they were sending assets after me. 

I dropped the file and left Pierces room, going back to my own and hastily packing my bags. I needed to find a new hotel. I could leave Pierce until later, take down some other targets. But for now, I had to get away from my target. If they knew I was looking for Hydra Agents, then they knew I was going to be looking for Pierce, meaning he probably had some sort of guard on him. 

I took the back stairs out of the hotel, coming out in a back alley that led to the street. I tightened my grip on my bag and set off down the street, ignoring the chill that cut through me. I reached the car I'd parked in a side street and flung my bags into the back seat, slamming the door shut and reaching for the handle of the driver's door. That was when I caught the reflection. 

I swung around, catching the man's arm easily and twisting it round, using the leverage to kick him twice in the stomach before slamming my fist into his nose. He cried out in pain and dropped to his knees, blood flowing freely across the lower half of his face. 

"Кто вас послал?" I spat, pressing the gun into his hair. He stared at the ground, blood steadily dripping onto the cobbled street. It was clear he didn't understand Russian, so I tried it again in English. "Who sent you?"

"Fuck you." He snarled. I lowered the gun a little and fired once, sending a bullet into his leg. He screamed in agony, twisting around on the floor in front of me. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and used it to pull him back to a sitting position. 

"I just shattered your femur." I hissed into his ear. "I will shoot you again if you don't tell me who you work for."

"Hy-Hydra." He whimpered pathetically, tears mixing with the blood that gathered on his chin. I dropped him back to the floor and fired again, this time hitting him in the head. He stilled, and his sobs faded into silence. Without wasting any more time, I clambered into my car and set off. 

I had to work quickly now, before they sent more after me.

 

It was two weeks after the incident outside the hotel. I'd been laying low in a crappy motel just outside of the city, deciding on my next target. It would have been a hell of a lot easier to choose one if I wasn't constantly looking over my shoulder. 

Eventually, I decided to break into one of the unused Hydra bases to look for information on my targets. The base I needed to get to was a couple of miles from my motel, so I set off late one night. The base, it turned out, wasn't as deserted as I'd assumed. In fact, it was crawling with guards, all of whom were stocked with state of the art weaponry. 

I groaned from outside the compound. The only way I could get inside would be to take a Hydra uniform from one of the guards who patrolled the outside of the compound and disguise myself. 

I hopped the fence and landed neatly inside the compound, crouching behind a crate of supplies to wait for a guard to swing around the corner. It only took a couple of minutes for the patrol to lead one of them to me, and it only took a few brief seconds of struggling for me to subdue him. I stripped him down and pulled on the Hydra uniform over my combat suit, tugging his helmet on over my head and reaching for his weapon. 

I dragged his body behind the crate I'd hidden behind, and set off on his round, making my way across the compound, to the surveillance building. It didn't take me long to get inside and subdue the two officers on duty, so I could look through the files. 

I'd been inside for about twenty minutes when I heard something crackle through my stolen headset. 'Es hat eine Verletzung'

"Oh shit." I murmured, stashing the files and grabbing my weapon. They'd obviously found the body of the guard. 

I crept out into the compound, where guards were being lined up and forced to take off their helmets. If they found me and got me to take mine off I would be shot on sight. 

I dodged around the side of the surveillance building to strip back down to my combat suit, keeping the Hydra weapon in case I needed it as I hopped the fence.

I managed to creep back around to where I'd broken in, and was about ten feet from the fence when a voice stopped me. "Heil Hydra!"

I glanced back around to the two guards who were saluting me.

"Sorry!" I called, firing twice and hitting them both, before hopping the fence and making my way back to the motel as quickly as possible, discarding the Hydra weapon on my way. It would make for an interesting conversation if I was discovered with it by a civilian. 

Finally, I made it back to my motel room. I turned the key in the lock and stepped inside, not bothering to turn on the light as I stripped out of my combat suit. I dumped them by my duffel bag with my surveillance equipment, and was about to reach for the light when I heard a voice. 

"You miss me?"

The light flicked on, revealing the Winter Soldier, who was sat comfortably in an armchair, waiting for me in his full combat gear.


	10. Ten - враг (Enemy)

"So you're out of Cryo then." I said slowly, noting how stiff his movements were as he stood up. "How long has it been?"  
  
He paused for a moment to remove the mask that covered the lower half of his face, dropping it onto the table beside the armchair before speaking. "That I've been out of Cryo, or since we've seen each other?"  
  
"Either. Both." I folded my arms as he stepped closer.   
  
"It's been a year, Renegade. I've been out of Cryo for a few hours."  
  
"And I was the first person you came to see. I'm honoured." I said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from my voice as I watched him move towards me. My heart pounded painfully in my chest as he got closer so I could take in all the details I'd nearly forgotten. How the bicep of his right arm strained against the sleeve of his combat suit; how his long brown hair fell into his piercing blue eyes; the stubble that coated the lower half of his face; the smell of sweat and whatever deodorant he used last and the walk that was nothing but predatory.   
  
"We need to talk, ренегат." He said, his voice dangerously soft as he backed me up against the wall. His fingers scraped against my hip as he moved down to grab the bag I'd tossed down on the floor, the one which was crammed full of Hydra files.   
  
"What about?" I croaked, infuriated that he was having this numbing, dizzying effect on me. His fingers played gently across the waistline of my panties, before he moved his left hand up along my hip to the curve of my waist to grip me tightly. The cold of the metal sent shocks down my spine, and I gasped involuntarily.   
  
"You've been working hard, I hear." He said, dipping his head so his lips brushed against my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin. "Tearing apart the KGB."  
  
"Had to keep myself occupied. You were in Cryo."  
  
He gave a mirthless chuckle, his hands moving round to unclasp my bra. "Well I'm out now. And there are a few issues that need  _straightening out_."   
  
He fingers flicked open the clasp of my bra and he tugged it off, planting his hands either side of the wall so he could bear down on me. "Such as your sudden interest with Hydra."  
  
"Hydra's the enemy." I snapped, reaching for the buckles of his combat suit. He batted my hands away, shaking his head.   
  
"I don't think so." He grabbed hold of my hips and pinned me up against the wall with the same strength he'd used in Prague all those months ago. In fact, it was almost exactly the same as Prague, except this time he remained fully clothed, pinning me to the wall with his left hand while he pushed his pants down. I couldn't do anything but watch him move, my toes curling in anticipation as I wrapped my legs around his waist.  
  
We started against the wall, but at some point he'd dropped me to the ground with a low grunt, joining me quickly and then continuing like there hadn't been a break. There was exactly the same ruthless brutal nature to the sex that hadn't been there the last time. There was none of the tangible trust in the air. None of the slow, surprising passion. None of the sweetly murmured words into my hair. There was no time for any of that.   
  
What stayed the same was the few minutes after that he spent catching his breath, his nose pressed into the carpet behind my shoulder while he panted, his chest heaving against mine. Finally, he pulled away, and tugged his pants back up, his breathing still very visible as he turned his back on me to rake his hands through his hair.   
  
When he glanced down at me again, he threw the sheet from the bed in my direction, ordering me (in Russian) to cover myself up. I did as I was told, wrapping the sheet around myself and remaining on the floor while he snatched up the files from my desk where I hadn't thought to clear them up.   
  
"You're hunting Hydra." He said. It wasn't a question.   
  
I nodded.   
  
"Why?"  
  
"Hydra is the enemy." I repeated my earlier words, flinching as he slammed the papers on the desk and moved towards me so quickly I barely even had time to react. The cool metal of his knife was pressed to my throat, and he was tugging my hair back to pull my chin back and arch my neck.   
  
"Am  _I_  the enemy?" He hissed into my ear, pressing the blade almost painfully against my skin. I couldn't answer, and he let go of my hair, withdrawing the blade and replacing it on his belt, but remained crouched over me. "You fuck the enemy all the time then?"  
  
"No." I snapped, repulsed that he'd think that.   
  
His lips curled into a smirk. "Oh no, I bet you fucked half the KGB in the name of A.I.M. Tell me, who was better in bed, me or Dimitri Apalkov?"  
  
I struggled against him, but he pinned me down easily with another harsh smile. "It was me, wasn't it?"  
  
"I never slept with any of them!" I snapped. I didn't know why I felt like I had to prove myself to him. I had no idea why I felt like I wanted to show him he was the only one I'd slept with, but for some reason, I did.  
  
"What about any of the strike team you put together, hm? Word is Volkov wanted to fuck you." His eyes drifted down for a few moments. "Can't say I blame him."  
  
"Yeah, well I didn't fuck Volkov, you son of a bitch." I hissed, managing to get my hand out far enough to slap him, enjoying the momentary shock on his face as the blood flowed to one cheek. I expected him to get mad, maybe even use the metal arm on me, but he didn't.   
  
Instead he pulled the sheet off in one swift movement, and fisted my hair in his right hand. "You're a loyal one, aren't you, my little ренегат?"  
  
"I'm not your anything." I snarled, pressing my lips against his and shifting so I was kneeling up. "Get out of that fucking combat gear."  
  
He grinned, reaching for the leather straps. 


	11. Eleven - (Hunted)

When I woke up the next morning I was curled up on the floor of my motel room, the bed sheet draped over me. I opened my eyes slowly, looking across the floor. I could see my combat suit, but strewn across the floor, not far from me, I could see other clothes. By the armchair, on the table, I could see the files I'd been reading through the night before, and a mask.   
  
I frowned. Why were his things still here?  
  
That was when I heard him moving, somewhere behind me. I pretended to still be asleep as he stepped around me, pulling on his clothes and dropping into the armchair to read the files. I watched as he brushed his thumb along the edge of each page of the files, until he finally reached over to the phone on the table, picking up the receiver and glancing at me, presumably to check whether or not I was asleep before dialling.   
  
"Hallo? Ja, ich bin es. Sie ist immer noch eingeschlafen, soll ich sie dir jetzt? No?" He glanced down at me. My mind was still too hazy from sleep to fully comprehend what he was saying, but I knew he was talking about me. I decided now would be a good time to 'wake up'.   
  
I stretched, yawning and sitting up, pretending to only just spot him. The phone was down by time I'd looked around at him properly. "You stayed."  
  
"Felt like we could go for another round." He grunted, standing up. I smiled, my eyes flickering to the phone.   
  
"Just give me a couple of minutes." I asked, wrapping the sheet more tightly around myself before making my way into the bathroom. I closed the door on the Soldier, reaching into the shower for where I'd stashed an emergency knife. I splashed some water on my face and patted myself dry, before rearranging the sheet so it would be easier to move around in, managing to hide the knife before stepping out of the bathroom.   
  
He was pulling at the leather straps of his suit, evidently trying to loosen them. He back was pretty much turned to me, so it was easy to grab a fistful of his hair and yank it back, before getting my arm around and pressing the blade to his throat, in a manner not dissimilar to what he'd done to me the night before. "Who were you talking to?"  
  
He didn't answer, so I knocked his knees out from behind, causing him to fall. This gave me a better vantage point, and when I stood directly behind him, I could pull his head far back enough that he looked me in the eye. His lips curved into a smirk. "You heard that."  
  
"You were speaking in German about me. To Hydra?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What about?" He didn't answer, so I pressed the blade a little harder into his neck, being careful to not draw any blood. "I asked you a question, Soldier."  
  
"Возможно, вы захотите одеться." He answered. It was infuriating that he could switch between the two languages with such fluidity.   
  
"Why would I want to get dressed?" I hissed, giving a tug on his hair. "And answer me in English."  
  
"Hydra." Was all he said. With something that resembled a growl, I knocked him unconscious, watching with some satisfaction as his body hit the musty carpet, before turning to get my combat suit.   
  
  
  
He was awake when I heard the engines. In fact, he had me pinned to the wall with my knife to my throat when I heard the engines. He'd woken up about five minutes before, and after a short struggle on the floor that had ended up with me kicking him in the face and him throwing me into a cabinet, we'd started to fight with knives. I'd knocked his out of his hand, but then  _somehow_  he'd managed to get hold of mine and hold it to my throat.   
  
When we heard the engines, his lips curled upwards again. "Sounds like our ride."  
  
There was a knock on our door, and he called something out in German, before looking back to me. "Going to come willingly, or am I going to have to force you?"  
  
I glanced down to the knife, which was pressed worryingly forcefully against my neck. "Willingly. If you tell me what you were saying on the phone."  
  
He smiled. "Only that you were asleep. I asked if Pierce wanted me to bring you to him now or later."  
  
"What does Pierce want with me?"  
  
He didn't answer, and instead grabbed my arm roughly, tugging me out of the room into the parking lot, where I could see ten or fifteen armed Hydra guards. A gag was placed in my mouth, a bag was thrown over my head, and my hands were tied behind me, before I was pushed into what I assumed was the back of a van.   
  
Did this count as a kidnapping?


	12. Twelve - Протрите ей (Wipe her)

When I opened my eyes I knew something was wrong. My whole body ached, and I couldn't help but shiver against the cold air. My body also felt oddly - wet?

I slowly looked around, but my movement was severly hindered by the handcuffs that chained my arms behind my back. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see myself. Someone had stripped me down to my underwear, and judging by the marks and blood that covered my body, had gone to town on the beating, presumably after knocking me out, because I couldn't remember anything. 

"Open the door." I heard a voice from outside whatever room I was being kept in. A door opened in front of me, and light flooded in, hurting my eyes and making me turn my face away. Someone stepped in. 

"Hello, Renegade." I heard an American accent, and slowly opened my eyes to look up at him, recognising him almost instantly as Pierce. "Welcome to Hydra."

"Get fucked." I spat, and he smiled. 

"He was the same when he first came here, you know. Defiant. Strong. Resilient." Pierce's lips curved into a smirk. "And look at him now. He bends to our every instruction. He's pliable. Submissive. Weak. You will be too, given time."

"Yeah, you can still go fuck yourself."

He chuckled. "You should read the first report on him. When he woke up in a Hydra facility in '44, while they were operating on him. Apparently his first words were -" Pierce opened the folder he'd brought with him, scanning the page for a few moments. "They were 'Fucking Nazis'."

"Sounds about right."

"You think A.I.M is so innocent? Hydra and A.I.M stemmed from the same organization, Renegade. Then, when opinions became divided, they split in two. Now, in the midst of all this -" He motioned around my tiny cell. "It's hard to see your roots."

"Thanks for the history lesson. But he was right, you're just a fucking Nazi, stuck in the middle of the Cold War."

"I'm going to put your insubordination down to a lack of conditioning. But don't worry - given time you'll learn."

"What do you mean?" I spat as he stood up. He simply shot me a knowing smile before leaving my cell, allowing two guards in. I heard him call 'wipe her' over his shoulder, and then he was gone.


	13. Thirteen - подельниками (Partners in Crime)

"Did you hear me?" I snapped. The Winter Soldier looked up from the gun he was cleaning and shot me a reproachful look. 

"Yes. Three times now. I keep the engine running while you go in there and kill him. Then we drive off. It isn't exactly difficult."

"One bullet to the back of the head. I glanced at the gun he was checking. "Is that ready?"

"Almost."

I drummed my fingers against the dashboard, looking up to the house in front of us. "Why does Hydra even want this guy dead in the first place? What's he done?"

"Why do you care?" He asked sharply. I raised an eyebrow. 

"I was just asking a question."

"Well don't." He thrust the gun into my hand. "Here. And take your silencer too."

I pulled on my black combat mask, which was similar to the one he wore, before snatching the items out of his hands and clambering out of the car, easily scaling the boundary wall that separate the house from the rest of the world. I dropped inside the garden, creeping through a couple of rose bushes and sneaking around a few trees, before I came to the kitchen window, which had been left open. After a little scrambling and struggling, I managed to get through the window and land neatly on the kitchen counter. I silently dropped to the floor, making my way from the kitchen to the living room, where I could hear the TV. 

He was sat watching the TV, looking a little unfocused. His greying hair was thinning at the top, and I could see age was starting to add to his weight around the middle of his body. He looked up as I came in.

"Let me guess." He said quietly, his voice oddly calm, like he'd made his peace with whatever God he prayed to. "Hydra sent you to kill me."

I nodded, raising my gun to point it between his eyes. He smiled patiently. "Had a feeling. Don't I at least get to know the name of my killer?"

I responded in Russian, giving him my field nickname, and watched as his eyes widened slowly. "Renegade?"

"Yes." I snapped through the mask. Christ, these things were uncomfortable. 

He sighed, shaking his head. "Hydra's puppet. Now they'll be unstoppable. You and the Winter Soldier, together as a team."

"Any last words?" I asked, and he shook his head. 

"Just do what you do best, ренегат."

I fired once, and that was all it took. His head flicked back as the bullet pierced his skull, and there was a moment of stillness in the room, before his body began to slide from the couch. Finally, it fell to land on the carpet, blood flowing freely through the hole in his head, drenching the worn cream fabric in a dark red hue. 

I turned away from Carver's body with a grim smile beneath my mask. That was one less A.I.M Director to worry about.

 

"Done?" The Soldier asked as I clambered back inside the car, slamming the door shut behind me. I nodded, and he stepped on the gas, speeding us away from the house as I dumped my gun into the glove compartment and ripped off my combat mask. 

"These things are fucking awful." I snapped, tossing it into the back seat. The corner of the Soldier's mouth twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile, but his expression remained as grim as ever as we exited the suburbs. We drove in silence for a long while, before he explained we were just going to get motel rooms for the night before carrying on to our next target. 

Then, as we pulled into the motel parking lot, he told me to go get us two rooms while he got the bags - his metal arm would draw too much attention. I motioned to my combat suit. "Don't you think I'll stand out a little?"

He reached around into the back seat, rooting around in one of our bags, before pulling out a sweater for me to wear. "Put this on."

He turned his head away as I pulled off the top half of my combat suit and struggled into the sweater, and then handed me one our many false credit cards to go book rooms for the night. 

I approached the front desk with a smile and asked for two single rooms, booking them with the credit card and thanking the woman behind the front desk, before grabbing the keys and going to meet the Soldier, who was waiting by the car with our bags. I grabbed my duffel from him and handed him his key. "See you tomorrow."

He muttered something in response that I didn't catch before I went to my room, closing the door behind me with a click. For a few moments I just stood in the room, my eyes close, trying to relax. Then I decided to take a shower before I turned in. 

 

The shower wasn't exactly hot, but I was clean afterwards, which was more than could have been said about me before. I wrapped a towel around myself, quickly checking my reflection in the grimy mirror before stepping out into my room to grab some clothes. I was surprised at what I found. 

The Winter Soldier was sat on my bed, the fingers of his right hand tracing the metal plates of his left. When he heard me come in, he stood up, his eyes raking over my body for a few seconds. "Hello."

"There's this thing called knocking, by the way." I pointed out, moving around to grab my clothes. He stepped into my path instead. "Excuse me."

He didn't budge, and I shot him a glare. "Can I get past?"

Instead of answering, he tugged the top corner of my towel that was tucked in between forefinger and thumb, pulling it away. I let the item fall to my feet, staring up at him. "Like what you see, Soldier?"

"I'm going to fuck you." He said bluntly. I snorted, shrugging. 

"Okay."

"I mean it." He began walking me backwards so that I was against the wall. 

"Good."

"I'm going to fuck you."

"Awesome."

"I don't care if you don't want to."

"How wonderful."

"I'm going to -"

"Fuck me. I got that part." My back hit the wall, and I raised an eyebrow, challenging him. "Where'd this come from? We've been working together for six months and nothing, and now all of a sudden you're -"

He cut me off with a kiss, pressing his oddly hot mouth against mine to muffle my words. I moaned gently into his mouth, my hands managing to find his hair and shoulders as I dragged the inside of my thigh against the rough material that covered the outside of his. I broke away just long enough to say "Go ahead."


End file.
